 | Mundi et Cordis |  |
45
XV. THE NEST.
In a sun-excluding thicket—Laurel, fir, arbutus, rose—
Where the cherup of the cricket
Rang at night and even-close;
And at early morn and noon
Piped the chaffinch joyously—
To his mate each song a boon
Dear as human poesy
Unto human thought—as far
In its green elysium hidden
As in purple clouds a star,
In love's heart a wish forbidden—
Hung the litle woven nest
Of some teeming warbler's rest:
Based upon two laurel sprays—
Emerald moss for its foundation;
Hair, enwreathed in subtle ways,
And, above, the implication
Of white wool and bosom-feather,
Matted in a round together:
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Lined the winged creature's lair;
Laurels were its tapestry;
Roses strew'd their leaves beneath;
Storms broke o'er it harmlessly;
And the summer's perfumed breath
Round it crept in warmth and balm;
And the morn and even calm,
Gliding its green curtains through,
Hung them all with silver dew!
| Mundi et Cordis | |